Whom Shall I Fear?
by Cel140
Summary: 'Elizabeth Thatcher stood in the muddy road, staring off into the brown-colored horizon with only a faint hint of greenery...it was increasingly harder to spot him, for the Mountie and his horse had almost completely faded into the distance...' Elizabeth is left alone in this frontier town, but she finds hope in the knowledge that God will never forsake her. #WhenCallstheHeart2013


**Whom Shall I Fear**

 **By Cel140**

 **Based on the 2013 movie version of When Calls the Heart.**

Elizabeth Thatcher stood in the muddy road, staring off into the brown colored horizon with only a faint hint of greenery. She squinted her eyes tightly, but it was increasingly harder to spot him, for the Mountie and his horse had almost completely faded into the distance.

She felt tempted to cry in her frustration of not being able to tell him to come back safely, but she knew she had to keep herself together. She wasn't going to let this pull down her morale, or even weigh on her heart. She choked down a sob. This was part of her own special basic training, just like Edward had said, and she fully intended to pass each test and jump every hurdle thrown at her. Aunt Elizabeth had been strong, and so would she.

Yet still, in hope of even just the slightest consolation, Elizabeth spared one last longing gaze to the horizon.

Nothing stirred there. The bold red of his jacket was gone, and with it a piece of her. She didn't quite know how to explain it. When she and Edward had danced in the light of the crackling fire, or when he didn't take on the bandits to make sure he got her to Coal Valley safely, or when he carried her all those miles when she lacked the strength to take one more step-she'd felt different. As if she'd briefly reconnected to a lost piece of herself. A piece she didn't even know she needed, but that made her feel whole and restored.

And now that that piece was gone again, Elizabeth felt as empty as the plain and vast expanse that stretched out before her. There was a sinking feeling too that she kept trying to shake off, but that reality kept telling her to give her honest consideration. With the odds of three bandits against one Mountie, even the very best one she knew, who was to say Edward would be able to take on the challenge? Who was to say he wouldn't get into serious trouble, or get injured, or possibly even-

And even if Elizabeth wouldn't dare consider something so unthinkable, it still remained as a strong _what if_ in her troubled mind.

That he might never come home.

Just entertaining the thought made her sick to the stomach. The soft cover of her Aunt's diary against her clammy palm brought little comfort. Not the money the bandits had stolen nor even her Father's compass meant anything anymore.

But what her Aunt's journal did give her was a reminder. She was the new teacher in Coal Valley. She wasn't sure if all the responsibility would be on her shoulders, or if she was even as fearless as she knew she had to be, but she would never know if she didn't try. For all she knew, this teaching post could become a life-long career. She could go on to inspire her student's children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren with her work here. She could never know how far into the years she would be remembered, but she'd never heard of any famous figure in history who didn't take action. Elizabeth wouldn't let her opportunity to make a difference be swayed by anything. She wasn't in control of what happened to Edward. She wasn't in control of what happened to her years down the line. All she could do was to let go of her problems and concerns and rest them in God's hands. He would not fail her.

Releasing her grip on her once white skirts, Elizabeth let out a relieved breath as the pressure lifted off her chest and vanished into thin air. Feeling the lighter for it, she gathered her wits and made her way back into the saloon.

About a dozen faces, both very young and old and everything in between, turned round to look at her.

"I'm sorry for all the interruptions children," She said, a little breathlessly as she tried her very best to calm herself, "I can promise there will be no more of them unless there is a very good reason, such as listening to your questions. As I said before, no questions are bad, so please don't hesitate to ask."

There was an uncomfortable silence in which one could hear the clearing of throats and the scratching of chalk against slates.

The atmosphere was heavy with a strong sense of disinterest, but it was the undercurrent of sadness and broken-heartedness that made Elizabeth's spirits drop. These children had lost so much. Fathers, brothers, cousins, uncles, friends-the list could go on and on. She felt incapable of even coming close to understanding what almost all of them must be going through.

Amidst the seemingly impenetrable silence, Elizabeth felt a hand gently tap her shoulder. She turned round immediately and was faced with the kind smile of Mrs. Stanton. At first, Elizabeth wondered if the widow was trying to gently insinuate that she'd failed her test of strength and that she'd likely head back home on the next station wagon, but when Mrs. Stanton tilted her head downwards ever so slightly, Elizabeth was relieved. Standing by Mrs. Stanton and clutching her hand was a tiny boy with a mesmerizing icy blue gaze. He barely reached the widow's hips, yet somehow he had enough coordination to raise a chubby little arm. Completely taken by the bravery and endearing qualities of the little one, Elizabeth crouched down to his level.

"Yes?"

"Mith Thatcher," He lisped, drawing himself to his full height to demonstrate his confidence, "I'm Charlie. Can I athk a quethtion?"

Upon her enthusiastic nod, the little one continued.

"Why is the grath green?"

Elizabeth did her very best to keep a straight face and to answer his question in the simplest and most serious way. She knew a child's pride could be badly bruised if they had someone laugh at them, even if it was simply because of their endearing qualities.

"That is an _excellent_ question Charlie," She said, smiling purely to make him at ease, "You see, grass doesn't actually have a color. Nothing you can see has a color all on its own. Do you want to know what gives it color?"

Charlie nodded, and so Elizabeth pointed out a ray of sun that was streaming in through the saloon window. The glass acted as a sort of prism, and as such the colors of the rainbow shone down on the wooden floor.

"It's light! Do you see those pretty colors shining on the floor?"

The little one nodded his head again.

"All the colors of the rainbow are hidden inside of light, and when the light shines down on something like grass, one of the colors shows up."

"Green!" Charlie piped up.

"Exactly!" Elizabeth exclaimed, glad she'd gotten the point across, "You're a very smart young man, Charlie."

The toddler hid behind Mrs. Stanton's skirts, flustered at the compliment, but between the blue fabric Elizabeth caught the hint of a satisfied smile on his face just before he raced back to his seat.

"Miss Thatcher?"

Elizabeth stood to her feet and was very surprised to see a pretty freckled girl in the far corner raising a hesitant hand. She was about to ask the girl what it was she wanted say, but when she took in the poor thing's eyes, she felt as if she couldn't breathe.

The hazel orbs she saw were the picture of traumatized horror. One only had to look once to know that this girl had actually witnessed the mine explosion.

Perhaps she'd been happy before the disaster. Elizabeth couldn't help but feel as though there had once been a joy in those eyes. A liveliness, a charming aura that would've made her a likeable individual to all. But it was gone, all with a flash of combusting flames and broken rock, leaving emptiness and broken hearts in its wake.

The girl's voice quivered as she spoke, "Why did the explosion at the mine have to happen?"

Elizabeth felt her heart drop to her feet. A thousand answers came to her head. 'The explosion was an accident', or 'It's not your fault it happened', or even 'Sometimes bad things happen to good people'.

But none of these words seemed comforting enough. Elizabeth hadn't been present when the explosion had taken place. She couldn't even fathom what it would be like to lose her Father or someone else dear to her in that mine. She just felt so incapable right now to solve this situation.

"Sally, sweetheart," Mrs. Stanton addressed the girl, trying not to make matters worse, "Perhaps it's better if we turned to our reading lessons, alright? We can talk about this later."

The girl swallowed hard, but the widow's kind and winning smile was impossible to say no to. Elizabeth was relieved to say the least, but she hoped that she too might be a part of the conversation about the mine. She didn't intend on opening any old wounds, but she had to know what had happened so that she could better understand how to handle difficult situations as these. She didn't want to be left out. If these children were to be her pupils, she needed to know how to comfort and encourage them just as much as she needed to be able to teach them.

The rest of the lesson was quite quiet save when one of the pupils hesitantly raised their voice to read. Elizabeth learned little of her pupils in this first day, but at least she'd managed to share a few words with a few of the students. Other than Sally Leeson and Charlie Barry, she met a teenager by the name of Gabriel Montgomery or Gabe as most called him, a shy redhead named Rosaline Sullivan, as well as Gabe's younger sister Emily Montgomery. She tried her very best to put the names to the various faces, and she gave them all a warm farewell when they rushed out of the saloon. Mrs. Stanton stayed behind and informed Elizabeth that because the teacherage was still under construction, she would be more than happy to board her. Elizabeth, of course, felt obligated to insist she didn't want to impose, but Mrs. Stanton's firm resoluteness put the new teacher at ease.

She insisted on being called Abigail, and Elizabeth requested that her first name be used too.

"Come," Abigail said, smiling in a motherly fashion, "I'm making a stew tonight."

And Elizabeth, feeling still quite disoriented by all the things that had taken place in such a short amount of time, gladly followed her.

Perhaps it was simply the beginnings of a headache or her own inability to differentiate north from south, but Elizabeth was almost certain that she would lose herself in this town, small though it was. The houses were all the same dreary grey, and had it not been for the tree line surrounding the town and a few sparse grasses, there would be little to no color at all. Elizabeth was truly grateful for Abigail's company, for otherwise she might've crumpled under the weight of this new challenge.

"Tell me a bit about yourself, Elizabeth," Abigail invited as she ushered her inside the quaint but quite appealing house. It was furnished smartly and simply; a wooden table stood in the middle of the parlor with a vase of fragrant flowers sitting atop it, the painting of a beautiful landscape hung on the wall, an antique clock clicked over the fireplace, and lamps were fixed into the walls to give the home a warm and welcoming glow. Couches were placed in an orderly fashion in one corner, and on the other was situated the stove, the oven, and the sink. Two doors on the right and left gave one the impression of two different bedrooms.

"I don't know much about you," Abigail continued as she subconsciously moved the flower vase to a counter, "Well, other than the obvious."

And here she motioned towards Elizabeth's costly flowered hat and her white lace dress.

"I'm afraid I'm not very interesting," Elizabeth chuckled nervously, "I'm what most call a spoiled rich girl."

Abigail tilted her head slightly to look at her, but it wasn't in a judgmental fashion. In fact, it didn't seem as if she were looking at her clothes or behavior at all. There was a pause, and then Mrs. Stanton shook her head.

"Oh I don't know about that, you seem to me a woman with a lot of integrity to come all this way. Frank too to say something like that, but I don't think it's fair that one judges before they have a chance to get to know you. Please, take a seat."

Elizabeth took the one closest to her, and smiled softly at Abigail's wise words. No one had a right to judge anyone else without first getting to really know their character.

"Thank you," She said softly, before continuing in a louder tone, "Well, my father is in the shipping business. He does work in cities like Hamilton and Cape Fullerton, and he's been very successful all these years. He loves me and my sisters dearly, but it was he who told me to follow my dreams and God's leading wherever it took me. It's been a difficult journey, but I am happy that I took the right path."

Abigail nodded, prodding her to continue.

"I was escorted by Constable Monclaire, and if I was completely honest, I never would've made it here if it hadn't been for him and my family. They've been my support all these years."

Elizabeth bit her lip a little. She was beating around the bush. She'd already said earlier this morning that Edward had escorted her, and she was quite sure Abigail knew about her father's shipping business.

"Forgive me," She said, "You probably already know all of this. The reason why I came, besides my love of teaching and God's leading, was because of my Aunt's journal. She was a teacher too, you see, and she went to teach in a town out West. I know it seems crazy, considering the kind of person _I_ am, but I wanted to follow in her footsteps. I felt compelled to take this teaching job, because I wanted to be like her. I wanted to teach and encourage children who truly needed it, not the privileged ones that probably have dozens of other teachers and plenty of opportunities. I want to give these children a hope for their future, a means to become whatever they want to be. I know I may seem weak, or too young to know anything about perseverance and patience, but I will give this opportunity to teach yours and all of the other children all I've got."

Abigail had begun to smile warmly as Elizabeth recounted her inspiration for coming out here, but at the mention of _your_ children, the corners of her lips fell. Elizabeth's mouth formed a small _o_ as the realization of her mistake hit her hard.

"Oh, Mrs. Stanton, I am so terribly sorry, I-"

"No, no, it's alright," Abigail smoothed over quickly and gently, willing the painful pangs in her heart away, "You didn't know. And please, it's still Abigail. Don't worry, you didn't do anything wrong-in fact, it seems to me you've found your purpose. It will take time to accustom to another lifestyle no doubt and it may get rocky, but the fact that you've taken up the challenge says a lot. You're a brave young woman, Elizabeth."

The young Thatcher felt as if an immense weight had lifted off of her. Mrs. Stanton's words were so simple, but to know that someone other than Edward and her family believed in her gave her strength to believe in herself.

"You have _no_ idea how much it means to me to hear that someone say that," She exhaled, "Thank you."

Abigail smiled warmly and gave Elizabeth's hand a gentle squeeze, "Please, make yourself at home. Your room is that door on the left. My kitchen pump broke, so you'll have to wash your hands with the one outside."

She rose from her seat and made her way across the room to the stove top as Elizabeth expressed her thanks.

Elizabeth found her new room accommodating. It was obviously nothing like the luxury she was accustomed to back at home, but somewhere deep inside, the cozy room pulled at her heart strings. She could sense that this room had once been full of warmth and laughter and happiness, and although now it was hard to detect in its owner's absence, there was still a lingering tingle that filled Elizabeth with wistfulness and hope. If these men and women who have had to endure so much hardship and suffering could still go on with a joy and passion, how could she, as the one who was to shape and influence the lives of their children, be any less joyful and passionate?

She had been afraid and even doubting before, but now this resolution was imprinted firmly in her mind. She would not cower away from the challenges of living in this frontier town. She would not give in to the voices of condemnation and discouragement. This was her home now. This was the place where she would enable the future generation to succeed and prosper beyond their wildest dreams. With God's help and the support of these brave men and women, whom or what should she fear?

(And that's it #Hearties! I really hope you enjoyed this one-shot! I've always wanted to write a short story for the movie of When Calls the Heart 2013, and I've finally mustered the courage to finish and post it! Please tell me what you think in the reviews section and do favourite and follow if you enjoyed reading!)


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